


Fingers

by sanguinity



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toast keeps her fingernails short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/gifts).



> Thanks to ecouter-bien for beta!

Toast keeps her nails short, regularly paring them back to the quick with a wicked little knife. They're as short as Furiosa has seen on someone who isn't a nailbiter, and it's a mystery to her. Furiosa only tends to her own nails when they’re annoying her, and she’s as likely to grind them down on a rough patch of the Citadel wall as to cut them properly.

But then she walks in on Toast scrubbing at her hands with a brush, fastidiously removing every trace of engine grease from her calluses and the creases of her knuckles, and Furiosa—who keeps her hand clean but doesn't mind a little lingering engine grease under her nails, either—thinks, _Oh, that's why._

 ***

The first time Furiosa slides two fingers into Toast—beautiful and panting, her head back and eyes unfocused—the rough corner of a fingernail snags on Toast's inner wall, scratching the delicate muscle.

Toast yips, her head jerking up as she snatches at Furiosa’s hand.

Wide-eyed, Furiosa tries to pull back, but Toast, her laughter breathy, holds on firmly to Furiosa’s wrist. “Just, careful with the nails, yeah?”

Furiosa tries. Oh, how she tries. But Toast's inner topography twists and curves around her fingers, elastic flesh pressing into her fingertips when she thought she had clear passage. The effort to keep her nails to herself makes her anxious, distracting her from the noises Toast is making, and she finally gives up, reluctantly withdrawing her fingers. She makes do instead with pushing a doubled knuckle into Toast, relying on her tongue and the flat of her thumb for the rest. Toast doesn't seem to feel the loss, her body strung taut, corded with tension, her fingers petting and scrabbling at Furiosa's skull. But _Furiosa_ feels the loss and regrets it. Toast felt so silken and strong and _alive_ around her fingers, and the musk of Toast’s clit is nothing like the cutting tang that clung to her fingertips.

 

Later, Toast rocks four slim fingers into Furiosa, putting the weight of her arm behind it, while Furiosa rubs fast and hard at her own clit. Toast murmurs encouragement, her knuckles bony, uncomfortable, and totally necessary against Furiosa’s cunt. She twists her hand, her fingers folding and shoving from the inside, and Furiosa bites down on a shout as her body abruptly jackknifes. She lets go of her clit to clutch at Toast’s hair, her arm, any part of her she can reach, while her cunt spasms hard around Toast’s hand.

Furiosa is still panting, trying to remember how vision works, as Toast gently eases her hand free. She laughs ruefully— _“Damn_ , Furiosa!”—and shakes out her hand, flexing those small, strong fingers. Mucus clings to them in pale, silken stripes, and she licks the worst of it clean. Then seeing Furiosa’s expression, Toast grins and offers her a wrinkled, pruny fingertip to taste.

Furiosa sucks in the bright, fragrant tang, stroking the fingertip with her tongue. She can feel the puckered wrinkles of Toast's fingerpad—and taste the flavor hidden in them—but the nail is barely discernible except as a hard, slick surface.

And Furiosa thinks,  _Oh, that’s why._


End file.
